


Presummer on Andoria

by TheAndorianMiningConsortium



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:58:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1699046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAndorianMiningConsortium/pseuds/TheAndorianMiningConsortium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrote a cute thing or something. Come to think of it, the Kumari probably couldn't land. But I wasn't thinking of that at the time. Oh- and if anyone is thinking "what the heck" about the sticks. That's because antennae are supposedly used for balance. I imagine wearing a hooded coat would hinder that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presummer on Andoria

Hurtling through the inky depths of space, to do battle amongst the stars. To fight for the safety of your race, to protect your homeworld from the enemies of your brothers and your sisters… it was immensely gratifying work. The Imperial Guard pledged their very lives to the protection of their people, and the sense of accomplishment that was felt by each soldier who knew that they had performed their duties, and performed them well, was astronomical, immeasurable. The triumph of success, it was a striding, bounding joy, tinged at the edges with a relief that spread and was almost enough to fell the stoutest of warriors in their stride… they did it, they had done it, they had succeeded, completed their mission – whatever the mission was that day – and once again saved their planet and their race from danger that threatened their destruction and extinction. And thanks to these fierce, dedicated warriors, all was to be well. They could let out breath they had been holding throughout, and breathe easily, safe in the knowledge that they had fulfilled their roles. And so it was with hearts that swelled with modest pride that the crew of the Kumari brought her in to land. The threat that was posed by the Vulcans and the Tellarites was to be stalled for another day, and the Andorian civilians could rest, secure in the knowledge that they were well looked after by their finest guardsmen.

And yet, nothing compared to the sight of Andor’s rings stretching away infinitely across the sky. It felt like a reward for all that they had done. Those whispy streaks of milky white, lancing over the horizon for all the world like a pathway to the heavens, that burning blue sun that glinted upon the frozen surface, skies the deepest indigo as the moon slowly turned, its light ebbing as it prepared to set, softly in the distance. A more beautiful sight could not be seen in all the galaxy, a more majestic and perfect homeworld simply did not exist. Other races – aliens across the sector from here to Orion and back and beyond, might dare to disagree. Might even pity the Andorians for the tiny ice moon upon which they lived. But they did not see the patchwork of frosty sea as it rose to meet the ship’s descent, the delicate fragments of bobbing ice, the towering glaciers of the poles, the grandeur of the mountains that stretched up to nestle the lilac mist that swam the atmosphere from above. They, quite frankly, did not have the pleasure of knowing what they were talking about.

And as the docking port extended, then smoothly, smoothly, and with a grace that defied its enormous bulky design, that great hulk of a battleship drew itself toward the ground. A neat descent through a wave of whispy atmosphere, the image of the world upon the viewscreen rising graciously to greet them. Seated in the captain’s chair, Shran gave an approving look across the bridge towards his pilot, before returning his gaze to the grandeur on the screen. Perfect, as always. His crew was made of the best of the best, the finest guardsmen one could ask for. And yet, though he rarely said it out loud, it never ceased to impress him, to experience for himself, again and again, just how well they each performed their duties.

They would not be here long. This was no pleasure trip; their purpose was not to provide the rest and relaxation of a shore leave for the crew. No – such things should be far from the minds of soldiers sworn to protect the people of Andoria. The purpose was one of practicality only, one that had, inconveniently, though not unhappily, drawn the Kumari from its usual duties of patrolling the sector. It was necessity that made them homebound now. They were here to have a transporter system installed. And it was going to take about fifty hours.

That gave everyone on board a chance to stop by and see their families or enjoy whatever slender rest and relaxation this tiny bracket allowed them, before going straight back to work.

Shran, like many of his crew, was eager to take a walk across the surface. Summer was on its way, and with the moon’s orbit shuffling into the light for the first time in many years, he intended to enjoy what he could of it. It was not yet warm enough to walk outside without multiple layers of thermal protection, but it was getting there, and even now, workers and volunteers were organizing themselves, setting up the stands and the makeshift structures as they made ready for the summer festivities. As he stepped from the platform and dragged himself up the ladder, through the access conduit, to emerge out into the fresh air, Shran shut his eyes for a moment and raised his head to the sky. A blast of cold wind, icy and strong, welcomingly refreshing to an Andorian that has not set foot on the surface of the land for years at a stretch. Clambering from the tunnel and out onto the snow, he inhaled deeply and cast a gaze around.

It was empty of all life – the festival organizers would be setting up in locations far from the docking bay, yet the landscape was far from barren. The snow had a richness about it, flurries thick and windswept dappling the land with ever-changing features, the last fall settled now into drifts of softness that lay in splendid waves from here to each horizon, as far as the eye could see. Heavy boots crunched down onto that thick white carpet as the commander began to make his way slowly across, hood drawn up, stick in hand. Surveying the landscape he remarked silently to himself upon its beauty – no words, just silent appreciation and a heart that burned with the security that one can only feel when returning home after a time away that had stretched so long, that homesickness itself had become easy to ignore and push aside. The soft purple glow that melted behind every shadowy dip in the ground, highlighted every rise and fall of the blanket of white, the distant sea, surface a thick slush of melting ice, just visible upon the far horizon to the east. It made his heart burn, the beauty and tranquillity and cold forbidding solitude of being alone out here in the wind. He could not stay long – it was too cold to be safe, and too disorienting to walk with a hood over the head, but a few minutes would be fine. Would ease his mind, and clear his head, whilst he sought that solitude that always evaded him so.

Solitude was not something that was easily found on board a warship – less so for the commanding officer. Even when off-duty, Shran could never really be alone. One never knew when a disaster was about to occur, when Klingons might drop out of warp right beside them and attempt, for whatever petty reason, to batter them to bits. When Vulcans would intercept their flight and bombard them with questions and thinly hidden shreds of accusation. When an anomaly caused some minor problem that nevertheless still required his personal attention. One was never really alone on a warship; even when off duty, even when trying to sleep, Shran was compelled always to be ready. He couldn’t even have the security of closing his eyes and resting his head without knowing that at any moment, without warning, he could be called to action. Would have to wake and be on instant alert. Dress within seconds, run to the bridge. He could never really just take time to sit by himself and enjoy his own company, without someone wanting to ask him a question, query a problem, suggest a solution. He could never really be by himself, could never gain a real peace of mind.

But now, for one precious little fifty hour stretch, they were home, and until that transporter was installed, he was off duty. It gave him the time he needed to relax himself, not in body but in mind, to have the pleasure or going somewhere without the pressure of having to answer to something or deal with a problem. And out here on the ice, he was in absolute solitude. It was dangerous – going out here alone. One could slip and fall, or suffer a temperature drop that would disable them. But it was worth the risk, for the peace of mind and the fresh, freezing air that hurtled past him and blasted in his face. For several minutes he walked, aimlessly, just pacing forward to keep the blood pumping, to keep himself from freezing whilst he let that icy wind wash over him. The chance to get out for just one day recharged the commander. It almost felt as though the wind itself was physically recharging him.

The sensation of a soft vibration at the hip alerted Shran that a signal was coming through, and a split second later it was followed by the familiar chirrup of a hail. His brow furrowed and his lips pouted. He had come here seeking peace and tranquillity, a short, but invigorating release from the toil of being a soldier. Just for a few minutes. Just a few tiny minutes. Couldn’t they leave him alone?

Apparently not, it seemed; even after docking the ship and taking to the ground he was not going to be left alone. Someone always wanted to talk to him about something, and peace was never to be found. Even here on the surface of Andoria. The pressure of being a commander. Shran had half a mind to ignore the hail entirely, but an instant later, it buzzed and chirruped again. With a sigh then, he reached for his pocket, grabbed it and put it to his ear.

“What?”

“Feel like some company?” came the reply, a little tinny over the communicator, but the voice familiar, and warm as fire, just the breath of comfort to soften the blast of the icy wind in his face, and instantly he relaxed, shoulders falling as he untensed muscles he hadn’t realised he’d tensed. “You don’t get a choice,” Talas added, a hint of humour playing about her tone. “I’m right behind you.”

He turned on the spot, the snow crunching underfoot as he wheeled around. Behind him the shadows were deeper, darker, bluer, the access tube he had climbed through still visible, walls and rails peaking just above the surface some two hundred or so yard away, frozen landscape concealing the tunnel that led to the cities beneath the ground. About halfway between him and it, she was there, shrouded in the humble beauty of dusk as she made her way across the snow. Somehow she managed to make the awkwardness of forcing her way through ice with a stick in hand look elegant, graceful, even alluring. He couldn’t help it. He cracked a smile, and, rather than stand still and allow the cold to gnaw into him whilst he waited, turned to walk towards her, and they would meet halfway.

Within minutes they had met, her right hand rising to meet his left, their fingers lacing together as she bowed her hooded head to his, corners of her lips sliding into the tiniest of smiles. Talas was like Shran; she rarely smiled and never grinned, showed her amusement in subtle smirks, and her laughter was a rare thing, more of a snort or a mutter when it came. It wasn’t uncommon amongst guardsmen. So accustomed were they to keeping their feelings beneath the surface, that after weeks of service it became a habit – after years, second nature.

“It’s cold out here,” she said, stating the obvious, but the accusation in her tone made the true meaning of her words clear. What do you think you’re doing out here by yourself? Shran’s response was a brief and somewhat guilty exhale through the nostrils as he glanced down and averted his eyes from hers, the closest he would come to laughter, for now.

“I felt like getting some fresh air,” he replied quietly, glancing at the floor, before raising his gaze upwards to settle upon her face. From here, the setting sun shone upon them both, highlighting her features, soft and gentle in essence, but hardened through years of service to the Imperial Guard, turning her stony and cold as ice. Only he had seen the fire that burned more deeply within. The way that soft light from the melting sunset framed her, her pale hair shining about the edges, captured in its slowly sinking shine, was no more beautiful than the ice landscape, nor was it any less. To his eyes it was as though the two complimented one another – if there was one thing that made the scenery more complete for him it was Talas, and if there was one thing that made Talas more visually appealing, it was seeing her on the surface of their world. It was only then that it occurred to him that it was the first time they had been here together since their romance had begun. Last time they were here, she’d been too busy to leave the ship, and the time before that, he had.

At almost the same moment as the thought occurred to him, the twitch of her smile told the commander that she had just thought of it too. For far too long, fate had found its ways of keeping them apart. But now, finally, they had outrun it, and even if it was only for a precious few hours, could not only be alone together physically, but were away from the pressures of their duties. For the first time ever. Subconsciously, his grip on her hand tightened, and a moment later, hers did the same… before slowly but firmly she drew back her arm, tugging him toward her. He didn’t resist. He had no reason to.

“We should go inside,” she muttered into his ear, leaning close, her breath warm upon his neck as she pushed her nose beneath the edge of his hood, cold dry lips trailing an invisible line against his skin. “We’ll freeze to death if we stay out here too long.”

“We have a few more minutes,” Shran replied in a soft murmur, releasing her hand so that his own could slink its way around her back, the subtle curve of her hip, a ledge on which he could rest his arm and simultaneously push her just a little closer. The proximity of their bodies meant that they could share their warmth… not that that was his only reason for holding her…

“Mm,” was Talas’ only reply. “Well, I can think of one way to keep us warmer for longer.” He glanced toward her, a mischievous smile beginning to form, but then she stepped back, took out her pistol, and waved it in her face. “I’ll use this to heat the rocks.”

Oh. Well, fine then. Perhaps they could just walk and talk and heat some rocks, yes, that would be just fine. Hiding his disappointment, he bit his lip, and followed as she turned on heel toward the west, making for the cliff face that hung above like a wall that stretched to the sky. Yes, they could make it a little warmer over there, and that would be just fine.

A few minutes passed whilst they crunched their ambling way over the snow, neither hurrying nor dragging their heels, content enough to be silent and simply enjoy one another’s company. Once they reached it Talas raised the weapon, and pressed it into her lover’s hand. “You do it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to have a look around and make sure no one followed us here.”

He took the weapon in both his hands, clasping hers between his palms as he did so. “We’re not in any danger here. You’ve been a guardsman for too long.” He couldn’t blame her for her paranoia, not really. When one worked for the Imperial Guard one became accustomed to looking over one’s shoulder, constantly. You never knew when a predator might be watching, waiting, lingering in the shadows.

“I want to check anyway.”

He shrugged. Well it wouldn’t hurt to let her go for a minute or so. “If it will set your mind at ease,” he told her. “But it’s not necessary.”

Nodding, Talas slipped her hands out from between Shran’s, turned on heel and began a slow pace across the snow, drawing a perimeter around them both as she made a loose circuit of the area. As she got on with it – whatever she had to do to make herself feel at home – Shran set himself to firing on the rocks. A slow burst of energy to warm the stone of the cliff face. He paused after the first one, shivered and then paced a little. It was important to keep moving, so that the cold did not overcome him.

What of Talas then? He hadn’t had much time to really think about it in any great depth. Things had happened – wonderful things – but none of it had been planned. One thing had just led to another and fate had taken them, of its own accord, down this path together. Finding love and companionship was the last thing he had ever expected, especially with this career path, and he’d just let it all happen by itself, allowed life to scoop them up and do with them as it would. There had never been the time to really question it, to stop and agonize over the details, the repercussions, the little complications. They’d always been too busy, with battles and problems and missions and orders, to stop and think, and in the meantime the relationship had developed almost without the two of them noticing that it had.

Would he marry her? It seemed the natural route, but that notion brought with it a host of complications. To join Talas’ clan, become absorbed by her family and rearrange all his ties – would they even want to take him? To find a shen and a chan of acceptable quality to the high standards that they both would undoubtedly seek. It was all a little too much to contemplate all in one go. He hadn’t even been looking for Talas when he’d found her – and she’d been there all along! How was he supposed to find two more?

Marriage held little meaning to Shran on a personal level, and perhaps that was selfish of him. But he had no desire to procreate – what good would it be for him to bring a child into the world when he could neither be there to care for it nor dedicate his life to it? Yet he understood the importance. He was expected to marry, to contribute to the continuation of his race, and to father not just one, but four children. The mere thought of it scared him. Being responsible for eighty six people who under his command, were driven to do battle amongst the stars on a regular basis, no that hardly bothered him. But to be responsible for a small life form made of your own flesh and blood and dependant totally on your and your bondmates for food and water and life itself? That was somehow more petrifying than anything he could contemplate.

And yet, not marrying her would be just as troublesome. Once her parents learned of this new arrangement between them they would probably insist that she did, and if what she had told him of her family’s ways was accurate, would probably do their best to ‘help’ complete the foursome. She’d been part of an arranged marriage at some point, betrothed from birth to three Andorians she’d never met. Two had died and one had apparently broken their arrangement and married someone else – it wasn’t against the law but it had thrown the plans Talas’ clan had made for her into complete disarray. Now that she was old enough to choose her own mate, they had attempted to choose one for her, and had found none of their choices to her liking.

So they’d probably be overjoyed at this new development… far more so than either Talas or Shran would prefer. They’d meddle, and pressure, and want a hold on it, and probably end up getting into arguments with Shran’s family along the way. Who would of course, care little, other to advise but tell him that ultimately, his choice was his own to make. Once family politics got started on Andoria, they didn’t end quickly and they rarely continued peacefully. That was one of the reasons why he’d always avoided getting involved in the whole prospect of marriage in the first place.

“Thy’lek,” the familiar voice of Talas at his ear jerked Shran out of his thoughts, and he turned around, expecting to see the owner of the voice standing there beside him. Instead he was met by a sudden rude splat of cold and wet that assaulted his face and engulfed him in thick white sludge, sticking to him for a moment, before slowly sliding down to drip into his clothing. So surprised was Shran that he merely stood there, dumbfounded, words and even motions escaping him as he scrunched up his eyes and merely allowed the snow to drip. Hitting him at point blank range, the attack had completely covered his face, the thick covering of snow over his skin practically absolute.

“Snowballs are for children,” he muttered after a few moments. He wished, in that instant, that he could come up with something cleverer to say, but that seemed to be the best he could manage.”

“I think we all need to be children at times,” replied Talas, chuckling, before bending to scoop up another ball of white sludge from the ground. “Because it won’t be long before we have to be adults again. Relax a little. We’re home, and we might as well make the most of it while we’re here.”

He raised a hand to wipe off the snow, offering a smirking grimace before spitting puffs of it from his mouth. He was well aware of how ridiculous he looked, and he felt ridiculous too. She stood, a new ball of it in her hands, and gave him a predatory look, raising an arm to hit him with it again.

In a flash Shran reached forward suddenly, to grasp Talas by the wrist, fingers curling around her arm so tightly that she could not possibly wrench herself free. His superior strength kept her tight within his grasp, and she’d have to use extreme force if she was going to throw him off. But he wouldn’t give her the time to do so. Without hesitating for an instant he jerked her arm swiftly and abruptly upwards, so that the snowball she was holding collided instead with her own face, not his, splatting her as totally and completely as the former had him.

Releasing her he stepped back, smirking at her again with as he took a triumphant stance and did a poor job of hiding his amusement at the sight of Talas with snow all over her face.

“Don’t hit yourself.”


End file.
